


What is he to you?

by samariumwriting



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Misunderstandings, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:33:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28753698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samariumwriting/pseuds/samariumwriting
Summary: Forsyth gets the chance to visit Python when he gets some rare time away from his post. Somehow, no one seems to understand what the two of them spending time together actually means.
Relationships: Fols | Forsyth/Python
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	What is he to you?

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Forsython zine over at @forsythonzine on twitter! It was real nice to write for and a great project to be a part of

Python’s job these days was a whole lot less fancy than fighting Rigelians or reclaiming his homeland or shooting witches, but he didn’t mind. At least, he didn’t mind when he had something to do.

That day, there was nothing going on at all. He was doing his daily rounds of the town, but there were none of the pirates that he’d been sent to protect the place from. No petty thieves, not even any cats stuck up trees.

So yeah, Python was pretty bored until the man who ran the bakery approached him. “Letter for you, Sir Python!” he greeted.

“I’m no knight,” he said with a groan, and the man grinned at him. “Come on, give it here.” He beckoned the man a little closer. “Who gave it to you?”

“A messenger from the capital, sir,” he said. Python smiled. He knew who that was from, then.

“Thanks,” he replied, taking the letter and stuffing it into his jacket. Something to look forward to for later.

The good mood stuck with him for the rest of his patrol, keeping him alert in anticipation of being able to open the letter. Just as he rounded the final corner, he caught sight of a familiar face sprinting towards him.

“Oi, mister Python!” the girl said, coming to a halt just in front of him. She reminded him a lot of himself as a child; a slacker with a no good father. He always tried to at least give her the time of day. “You seem happier than normal.” Python scoffed. “Did ya get a letter from your girlfriend?”

This time, Python laughed properly. “No,” he replied. “I don’t have a girlfriend, kiddo. On your way.”

She scowled and careened away as Python walked down the final stretch of road towards his house. Almost as soon as he was inside, he sat down at his kitchen table and opened the letter.

‘Dear Python,’ it read. ‘I miss you desperately. This letter is merely an advance warning of my impending affection; I have procured some time off from my duties and intend to spend the coming days at your side. Perhaps in your bed, if you permit it. Ever yours, Forsyth.’

Python pressed his fingertips to the signature and smiled. What a sap. His sap, though.

* * *

“You’ve got a spring in your step, boss,” one of his men commented. A small group of them stood at the docks, aiding the passage of goods into the harbour and scaring off anyone who saw fit to impose an extra tax. “Is your sweetheart visiting?”

Python laughed; these questions never failed to amuse him. “No,” he replied. “I don’t have a sweetheart.” He was just anticipating Forsyth’s arrival— it was almost definitely soon.

Sure enough, Forsyth arrived the next day. It was the middle of his patrol, but Python could technically take leave whenever he wanted; he was the commander, after all. The moment Forsyth appeared at the end of the road, he waved to one of his men to signal he would be gone for the rest of the day.

Python met Forsyth’s enthusiastic greeting (a full body embrace, of course) with a slap on the back. “Good to see you again,” he said, unable to stop a smile from spreading to his face. “Let’s go home, eh?”

Forsyth grinned in return, immediately launching into one of many tales of his knighthood that he hadn’t managed to cram onto the pages of his letters. Python simply listened as they made their way back to his house, and then as they prepared a meal together. Forsyth always had a lot to say.

“And then, the man jumped out of the window and into a cart full of hay down below!” Forsyth recounted, his fork gesturing dangerously close to the cup of (diluted) wine on the table. That was the sixth close call Python had counted that night.

“Careful,” he warned again, and Forsyth let out a hearty laugh. He leaned across the table and gently nudged Python’s own cup towards him. “Oi.” His smile turned soft, and Forsyth’s did the same in return.

They talked late into the night. It always amazed Python just how much in his life was actually interesting; he always felt like he lived the most boring existence in Valentia, but Forsyth listened to every word. When the conversation finally faded away, they climbed into bed together and drifted off to sleep.

The next day, Forsyth insisted on joining Python on his patrol. Privately, Python thought this was a bad idea, but he couldn’t exactly stop him. That was how they ended up witnessing a theft in the marketplace. “Hey!” Forsyth called, pelting after the thief.

Python hid his sigh and ran after them both. Forsyth was too slow, and he didn’t know these streets like he or the thief did. Within moments, he caught up to the pair of them, tackling the thief to the ground. He recognised the young man; he’d apprehended him before.

When Python pulled him up off the ground, intent on taking back the stolen goods, giving him a reprimand, and sending him on his way, the thief looked between him and Forsyth. “Is that your boyfriend, then, do-gooder?”

Python watched as Forsyth puffed out his chest a little. “No,” he began. “Python is my-”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Python interrupted, fixing Forsyth with a meaningful look. Fortunately, Forsyth got the point and closed his mouth, maintaining a glare in the thief’s direction for the rest of the encounter.

All good things had to come to an end, however, and Forsyth didn’t get all that much leave. A few days later, he was on his way again, back to his adventures in the capital. Back out of Python’s life again, at least for a while.

He didn’t wave as Forsyth walked down the road, but he did watch. As Forsyth reached the curve in the path, he turned, and Python blew him a kiss. He was too far away to see if Forsyth smiled, but he was willing to bet that he did.

As he turned away, Forsyth now completely out of sight, an older woman Python recognised from his patrols of the town square approached him. “Afternoon, ma’am,” he said, nodding towards her. “Need a hand with something?”

“Oh, no, not at all,” she said with a smile. “I just had a little question for you.”

Python held in a sigh. “Go on,” he said.

“Was that your husband?”

Python looked back towards the now empty road. Without thinking, his hand reached for the cord around his neck. Attached to it, hidden under his shirt, lay his simple silver wedding band. “Yes,” he said, and he could hear the small smile in his voice. “That’s my husband.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider leaving a kudos/comment. I also have a twitter over at @samariumwriting :)


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